


Once a Hero

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:17:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes if you get to someone early enough you can save them from themselves. Perhaps this is what Director Coulson had in mind when he sent Agent Alexander Ward into his parents's past on a dubious assignment which is complicated by the fact that his Mom is a SHIELD agent and his Dad is a traitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Authors Note:** Hi everyone, with all the recent Skyeward baby fics out there I totally want to hop on the baby bandwagon, but I thought I would add a little twist to be different. Also, I haven't forgotten about Playing Secret Agent. It is just on hold for the time being. :D

* * *

  
**Once a Hero**  
Prologue

_April 20, 2041_ _—_ _The Apex_

Alex opened the door to the laboratory and his glasses steamed up.

"What are you standing around for? Get in here already!" An arm yanked him through the threshold and damn near knocked his spectacles off the bridge of his nose in the process. He wiped them in his shirt and squinted at Ellie.

"Something I can help you with, Elle?" He huffed half in annoyance, half in exasperation.

The brunette looked at him pointedly. "Alexander Philip Grant Ward," she scolded. Her accent was a pleasant mix of proper English with just a hint of Scottish lilt. "Do you know what time it is?"

Alex winced. "Half past," he offered sheepishly.

"And what time did I call you down here?" She rounded on him.

"Six-ish," he shrugged. He had been waylaid somewhere between the Navidson records and proofing the newest batch of security protocols for The Freezer. In the grand scheme of things _what was thirty minutes, really?_ He started to explain this to Ellie, but she didn't seem to follow his logic in the matter. _Damn_ , she looked ready to throttle him.

"Six o'clock," she corrected and her voice rose an octave. "Not 6:05, or 6:20—six o'clock!"

"At ease, Dr. Fitz. I'm sure Agent Ward had a good reason for being late."

His head shot up. "Director Coulson, sir." He breathed and murmured an apology that the elderly man dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"Be on time in the future," Coulson warned in the tone that always made Alex wince.

"Yes, sir."

Alex glanced at his godfather who had turned his attention back to Ellie who was typing something furiously into a large computer screen. She leaned forward in her chair to let Coulson squeeze past her into a narrow observation area flanked with plexiglass. He motioned to Alex to follow him.

"Incredible, isn't it?" Coulson pressed a finger against the thin glass partition, peering out into the empty space beyond. Alex knew better than to regard the small, windowless room as anything other than remarkable.

"It's something," he agreed, training his gaze on the one identifying feature of the room: a coat of arms etched in the frosted glass. It was the same emblem displayed on his badge: a four-pointed heraldic shield emblazoned with a rising phoenix. It's head was facing dexter and upturned with wings raised as if paying homage to its eagle predecessor. The words 'Domestic Protection Division" curled in a downward arc under the furthest point of the shield.

"I'll admit, it does nice ring to it—D.P.D.. At least it's easy to say," Coulson mused.

"Still sad our initials no longer spell out S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Alex quipped, knowing full well that Coulson kept an extensive collection of old S.H.I.E.L.D. memorabilia in his office at The Apex.

"A little," Coulson sighed before his lips curled into a smile. "But personally I'd rather us not be branded terrorists by the U.S. government."

"Yeah, that'd certainly put a damper on what we're trying to do around here." Alex shifted uncomfortably on his feet, at 6'3' he dwarfed over Coulson by a good five inches.

"S.H.I.E.L.D., D.P.D.—we took a vow when we got into this racket to protect others from harm. What we call ourselves while we're doing it shouldn't matter." Coulson huffed and rolled his shoulders in a slight shrug. "Thirty years ago we thought we knew everything, but you know what Alex? We're _still_ ironing it out—and I'm okay with that. The first step in solving any problem is recognizing there is one and that's what we're doing."

"So why'd you really call me down here, AC?" He let the old nickname slip passed his lips out of habit and Coulson did little to correct him.

"I want you on my team."

"Sir," Alex looked at him as though he had grown an extra head. "You don't have a team anymore." _At least not since S.H.I.E.L.D. had disbanded_. He explained this with a careful patience, concerned that the years were catching up with his longtime friend and mentor.

"I'm not going senile, Agent Ward." Coulson chided. "I have an assignment for you—using The NET." He once again gestured to the expanse beyond the glass.

Alex swallowed. Only senior high-ranking agents were granted access to it and even then, it was rare.

The Neutron Extratemporal Tesseract colloquially dubbed 'The NET' was a displacement device originally developed by S.H.I.E.L.D. turned D.P.D. scientists: Dr. Leopold Fitz and Dr. Jemma Simmons in the early 2020's. It utilized neutron radiation in addition to a tesseract fuel cell to temporally displace anything that came in contact with it for a predetermined period of time. Coincidentally, 'The NET' was also a highly accurate description of the web-like diffraction pattern that was produced as a result of high energy particle collusions that occurred during the staging phase of its activation. Knowledge of The NET's existence was not widely known and Coulson reserved its use for dire situations only.

"It's just a simple recovery mission, Agent Ward." Coulson reassured as he ran his hand along the dark grey chevrons embroidered in his tie, his fingers smoothing out the creases absentmindedly. "I just need you to retrieve some old S.H.I.E.L.D. mission files on an encrypted hard-drive we lost a long time ago. Nothing to it, really."

He didn't say what for. Alex knew it was none of his business and D.P.D. was a helluva lot better at full disclosure than S.H.I.E.L.D. had been, but it made him nervous none the less.

He snuck a glance at Ellie who appeared distracted by the screen in front of her. Her hair was pinned into a loose ponytail that hung across the back of her lab coat. She didn't look at him, but he could see her chewing on her bottom lip like she always did when she was nervous.

"With all do respect, sir. I'm not exactly a high ranking field agent." Alex hedged, unsure how to continue.

"I know," Coulson told him gently. "But, you're the only one I can trust with this."

Ellie frowned at the display screens. "Not to rush you, sir. But, we don't have much of an alignment window if you're gonna do this."

The older agent sighed. "This is your call, Alex."

"You really think you need to ask, AC?" Alex returned dryly. The man had done enough for him and his mother that Alex would follow him to the moon and back if he had asked it of him.

Coulson nodded solemnly. "Get in, befriend my team, get the data, and get out. Understand?"

Coulson handed him a thin leather wallet, not unlike the one fixed to his hip. He flipped it open, studying the silver disc inside—a volant eagle guarding a three pointed shield was beveled across the polished face. The ID card accompanying it displayed the exact same photo as his own badge, but the credentials had changed:

'S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Alexander Philip Grant—Level 7 Specialist'

* * *

 

Just the prologue for now. The actual chapters will be much longer. I am partially holding off because I have an idea where I want this fic to go, but the entry point where Alex initially ends up in the AoS timeline is still up in the air. **Where would you like to see him?**

**A:** 1x08 when Ward is suffering from the effects of the staff

**B:** 1x19 when Ward has defected to Hydra

**C:** 1x13 after Skye has been shot

**D:** 1x10 after Coulson is kidnapped

**E:** Other ideas?

**I am also open to scenes you would like to see.** I am planning for a ton of Skyeward, Fitzsimmons, and perhaps some Coulson/May?

**Please Review and I will Update :D**


	2. Sex, Drugs, & Rock n' Roll

**Author's Note (1):** Firstly a HUGE thank you to Joy Booth, my awesome beta reader! I would not have been able to complete this without her help. Secondly, as voted this does take place after Skye gets shot, but not where I originally thought it would. This scenario just seemed to work out better for integrating Alex into the team. Speaking of which, since he has Ward's looks I've opted to have him adopt a Skye-like personality. Hopefully you like him.

* * *

 **Once a Hero  
** One: Sex, Drugs, & Rock n' Roll

For Alex, awareness trickled back slowly, starting with a dull throb at his temple that gradually descended down his back and into his legs. He was lying on his right side with his left arm outstretched and his right pressed into his face. His legs stuck off at awkward angles.

He lay still for a moment, trying to gather his bearings. If there were people around he would be wise not to move and avoid drawing attention to himself. His arm was positioned in such a way that it should make it possible for him to open his eyes without shifting. He tried it— _damn, bad idea!_

His stomach spasmed and he jerked, throwing himself onto his belly as he wretched violently into the dirt with half-lidded eyes. He groaned in frustration. Ellie had warned him that there would be side effects: headache—check, nausea—check, vomiting—double check, as well as the potential for insomnia and alterations to his circadian rhythm. 'Time lag' the D.P.D. scientists had dubbed it. The name had a nicer ring to it than 'temporal displacement sickness' and accurately described the body's response to being displaced across  _four_  dimensions. Thankfully, the serious side effects were only likely to occur at increased temporal distance from the set point: going back too far, or prolonged exposure: sticking around too long, neither of which he had any intention of doing.

With a final grunt Alex rolled away from what used to be the three cups of coffee, granola bar, and egg salad sandwich that he had scarfed down sometime before his three o'clock briefing. He wrinkled his nose and weakly pulled himself into a sitting position.

He didn't know where he was, but at least no one had shot at or otherwise engaged him. His stomach did another flip-flop forcing him to drop his head in a vicious bout of convulsions.  _Annnnnd there goes breakfast_ , he thought ruefully.

Alex stayed that way for a long moment with his palms flat against the dusty ground and his head bowed as he sucked in slow, measured breaths. The second time he dared move he did so at a cautious pace, reaching ever so slowly to snag his glasses, which had been knocked free from his face.

The move made him feel confident enough to try for his pack next: a black, nondescript nylon bag that was fitted snuggly across his back. He just had to keep his orientation long enough to slide the straps off of his shoulders.

 _There_ _…_ _nice and easy._  One hand clumsily fumbled with the zipper on the top pouch where an auto injector pre-filled with an amp of dexamethasone was stored. He groped for it, tearing the safety collar off with his teeth before plunging the apparatus into his thigh, jeans and all. He held it there for a good ten seconds, wincing as he massaged the area with the pads of his fingers.

Alex was familiar with the drug, a potent glucocorticoid that was often used to aggressively treat symptoms of time lag. He sucked air noisily through his teeth while he waited for it to take effect. Time lag was a poorly studied phenomenon and he was suddenly thankful that Ellie had the foresight to think ahead. He checked the pocket where the auto injector had been— a spare ampoule in case of emergencies and a plastic bottle filled with enough oral tablets to get him through the next thirty days; double what he would need for the duration of his assignment.

They had pre-arranged his retrieval date fourteen days from now, assuming everything went according to plan he could 'get in and get out', as Director Coulson had put it, with relative ease. Worst case scenario, Ellie had set The NET to open a secondary retrieval window exactly one week later. That was his deadline, if he missed that date Coulson would have no choice but to send a retrieval team after him. This meant running multiple trips through The NET, waisting valuable time, resources, and a hell of a lot of paperwork. Agents who stayed in the past for more than a few weeks put themselves at high risk for advanced temporal displacement sickness (ATDS—why they didn't call it 'advanced time lag' he wasn't sure) characterized by, bleeding from the mucus membranes of the mouth and nose, intracranial hemorrhaging, coma, and death.

Aside from extreme dry mouth Alex realized that he was starting to feel marginally OK. He steeled himself into standing up to further inspect his 'drop site'. It was bright and hot. The air around him glittered with sudden condensation—are artifact of temporal disruption that left millions of frost-like particles shimmering in the midday sun. He scanned horizon, squinting at an array of neon buildings in the far distance and the overarching canyons beyond.

His eyebrows knitted together. He knew this place.  _Coulson sent me to Vegas?_

A low rumble pulled him from his initial confusion and he knew better than to stand out in the open like a sitting duck. To his left, several long concrete hangers stretched across the landscape. A private airfield, he guessed and made his way inside as the rumbling increased. He could see the dust trail rising in the distance, following the sound until it was practically on his doorstep.

Alex ducked behind a cluster oil drums as the motorcycle rolled into the hangar with a roar. A Harley, he could tell by the way the engine growled. He surveyed its occupants with revolt. The male he knew; tall, dark hair, dark eyes, high cheekbones, and dark clothes. It was like looking in a fucking mirror. The female, however, was a mystery. She was about average height, long red hair, petite, leather jacket with a gang insignia stitched on the back.

_What the hell was going on? When did Coulson send him?_

Grant Ward cut the engine to the old 1987 Heritage Softtail and walked it to the back of the hanger. Red watched him owlishly as he stowed it under a dusty aviation tarp.

"I hope this pleases you," he said, making a brief gesture toward the modified Boeing C-17 looming overhead. She took one glance at the plane and smirked, striding deliberately toward him, accentuating the swing of her hips with every step.

"It pleases me greatly," she purred, raising her hand to caress the strong ridge of his jaw with her feather light touch. "And men who please me—" she shifted her body, deliberately grazing his pelvis with her own "…get rewarded." She greedily captured his lips, pulling a loud senusual groan from his throat.

Alex had heard enough from his vantage point to bit down on his own lip hard enough to draw blood.

 _Who the hell are you, Red?_ His mind was racing in a thousand directions as he fought to make sense of the scene in front of him, which was getting much too steamy for his liking. Ward had stooped to hoist her up bridal style all the while Red tongued his earlobe, drawing a myriad of erotic sounds from his lips; none of which Alex wanted to hear.

Scowling, he pressed his thumb against the broadest point of his glasses where the frame hinged with the glass. His right lens darkened, obscuring his field of view just enough for him to see the 'Phoenix' operating system menu that overtook his right lens. He scanned down the through options with a slight flick of his right eye until the screen displayed "IF: ETR" in yellow. He focused on the text, triggering the recognition screen for the Intergalactic Fleet Command: Extraterrestrial Recognition Database.

After S.H.I.E.L.D. had been disavowed the few agents who were still loyal to their cause had gone underground in an effort to restart the agency. In order to better their chances at success they split into two independently governed factions, serving distinct roles and limiting the amount of intel they collected. If Hydra wanted to make a move they would have to infiltrate two agencies instead of one.

The first, Domestic Protection Division rose under the banner of the phoenix shield: Phil Coulson's big F-you to Hydra. The Hydra may be able to grow another a couple of extra heads, but a phoenix couldn't be killed. Mess with one and it rose from the ashes with a vengeance, in this case serving alongside the shield that protected against the darkness.

The second faction: Intergalactic Fleet Command (I.F., for short) was commissioned to take on a new role utilizing the few extraterrestrial resources that the remnants of S.H.I.E.L.D. still had available. An extraplanetary base was constructed in the Orion Star System with the intention of fostering the dissemination of knowledge across the universe. The I.F. logo consisted of a star decorated lion pawing a planet with its extended forelimb, in representation of the constellation leo. It symbolized the indomitable spirit, courage, wisdom, and vigilance undertaken by I.F. Agents. I.F.'s largest contribution was the ETR Database, which acted as an invaluable resource for D.P.D. and I.F. agents alike.

"Oh…Fuck…ooooh"

Alex pointedly glared at Red. She was doing things to Ward with her hands that he didn't want to think about. The screen flicked displaying the outline of two orange squares that danced over the recognition field before zeroing in on their faces.

' **EXTRATERRESTRIAL RECOGNITION CROSSMATCHING IN PROGRESS** **—** **STAND BY**.' It read in boldface text. Alex waited.

' **CROSSMATCH WITH ETR DATABASE COMPLETE: 1 MATCH DETECTED** ' Alex flicked his gaze toward the 'view details' option. The screen changed at the text became smaller:

 **Name:**  Lorelei

 **Species:**  Asgardian

 **Special abilities:**  Enthraller [Type 2c: Vocal]

 **Arraignment Status:**  Imprisoned on Frogstar B [ **Maximum Security** ] by IF on January 3, 2025 on charges of multiple cases of sexual assault against civilian species and multiple evasions of confinement.

 **SPECIAL WARNING STATEMENT:** Male hominid species are particularly susceptible to enthrallment. See more…

List Previous Convictions

List Psyc Evaluation reports  
...

Alex focused on the 'see more' option and skimmed through the special warning statement. He took a mental note of the pertinent information: Asgardian, elevated levels of strength and stamina, known for enthralling men primarily through eye contact and vocal interaction, enthralment is extremely difficult to resist… _fantastic_. Coulson had said this was going to be an easy op—nowhere in the briefing did he mention anything about elitist sex hungry aliens.

"Ward! What are you—oh shit." Fitz had ducked his head out of the cargo bay and was standing frozen in the middle of the ramp.

"Awwww, come here my sweet little monkey, we won't hurt you," Lorelei cooed. She met his gaze suggestively and waggled her finger at him.

 _No, definitely DO NOT do that. Come on, Fitz. You love Simmons. You_ _'_ _re going to marry Simmons and produce two of the best scientists D.P.D. has ever seen you bloody idiot!_ Alex shook his head in exasperation, but he kept his mouth clamped shut as Fitz shuffled wobbly kneed down the incline as though he could no longer quite grasp why it was a bad idea.

"That's it, such a smart little monkey I have." She reached down from her position in Ward's arms to rake her fingers through the scientist's curly hair. His posture relaxed almost immediately and he seemed to slump into her and Ward.

"Now why don't you be a good little pet and escort us inside. You are going to help us take control of this wondrous chariot."

"Of course my baby girl," He murmured with a content sigh and gingerly reached for her hand to kissed it. If Ward noticed, he didn't show it, probably too focused on the figure-eights that Lorelei was lightly drawing across his chest.

"Well, I guess that's how  _that_  works." Alex muttered to himself, watching as Fitz lead the pair up the cargo bay ramp. Not once letting go of her hand as he did so.

 _Mission Objective Number One: Join Coulson_ _'_ _s team_ _without_ _becoming a horny sex slave._  He skimmed through the rest of the entry, looking for anything he could find on evasion techniques.

' **E** **vasion:**  Enlist female, subdue using standard techniques and transport to secure facility with female guard only.'

"Yeah, not helpful," he grunted. He needed an evasion technique that didn't involve possessing a pair of ovaries.

'If a female agent is not available and situation is dire: consider castration.'

Alex grit his teeth, the only one he was willing to castrate was the guy who wrote the damn entry.

'Short term solutions:' Ok, now we're getting somewhere.

''The best short term solution to deal with Lorelei's enthrallment is to avoid it. If direct confrontation is unavoidable and a tactical medicine kit is available, mood and hormonal stabilizing agents have proven a fast and effective means of improving mental clarity and reducing sexual arousal.'

Well, that would have been useful three paragraphs ago.

He waited until Lorelei's harem was out of sight before he dared breach the cargo bay.

"Damn, you have no idea how glad I am to see you," Alex beamed down at Coulson's 1952 Chevy and silently rolled under the chassis.

What happened next, happened in a bit of a blur. Coulson, May, and a woman straight out of a George R.R. Martin novel rolled up in one of S.H.E.I.L.D.'s Lexus SUVs. He ran her stats through the ETR while they griped about not having any leads.

 _Would this be a good time to tell them that they were closer than they thought?  
_  
Then the plane's twin jet engines roared to life— _well, looks like they figured that one out on their own_. He stayed silent as they dashed up into the bowels of the plane, wondering if it would be possible to locate and copy the hard drive without having to make contact with them. He could hide out until the portal opened again and it would be easier than having to make contact with them— _with him_.

Things were quiet for a little while with only the occasional voice punctuating the long stretches of silence. That was until Coulson came back and it all went to hell from there. From his vantage point Alex couldn't quite see, but heard the sound of Coulson's body thud against the side of the medical pod at the far end of the bay. He swallowed hard and crawled out from behind Lola's tires. He could hear Simmons fretting as he slowly stalked toward the open door. Now would have to be as good a time as any to say a big hello to team Coulson.

"I had to do it, I mean he was going to hurt us! I'm sure of it, all because of that awful woman and oh my god, I hit my commanding officer and this isn't even the first time I assaulted a high ranking official andthey'regonnatakemybadgeand…" Simmons blubbered mournfully.

"Of course, they're not going to take your badge. Simmons, you did nothing wrong. Coulson would have wanted you to stop him if it meant keeping him from hurting us. You know that," Skye reassured her friend, as she gingerly stepped around the side of the bed to where Coulson lay.

Simmons must have been distraught because she either didn't notice or didn't comment on the fact that Skye was out of bed.

"I think he's just knocked out, but that's gonna leave a pretty nasty bump in the morning," Skye assessed, inspecting the purple bruise that was already starting to bloom across the older man's temple.

"Oh god Skye, I definitely gave him a concussion and…" she was cut off by a slight tapping sound and the clearing of a throat.

"Um…excuse me," the voice said calmly, causing the two women to whip around in shock. Simmons was still brandishing the fire extinguisher.

"Whoa! Hey, easy there, do you really think if I was one of Lorelei's man-slaves I'd have knocked first?" Alex tried to reason, while displaying both hands palm up in surrender.

He was met with blank stares.

"If you're not with her, then who the heck are you?" Skye demanded, motioning for Simmons to back down.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Alex Grant. Look, here…I'm just gonna take out my badge, okay?" He carefully moved his hand toward his belt and motioned to a worn leather folio that he unclipped slowly.

"See…" he tossed the object on the bed and brought his left hand back to the palm up position.

Skye prodded at the thing, not letting him out of her sight as she flipped it over to reveal his I.D. card. "Agent Alexander Philip Grant, level seven specialist," she read.

"I prefer Alex," he explained lightly. "Mind if I…" he nodded at his hands, letting them drop to his side when she didn't object.

Her eyes furrowed in confusion and she looked at Simmons.

"Ever heard of him?" she asked.

Simmons shook her head 'no'.

"That's a good thing," Alex chuckled in an easy tone. "Means someone's doing their job. Director Fury sent me. I was supposed to report to Agent Phil Coulson." He frowned and pointed at the man crumpled in front of them.

"I'm guessing that's him?"

Simmons nodded solemnly, while Skye continued to stare at him as if trying to work something out. Alex shifted under her gaze, but steeled himself not to react. His mission depended on it.

"I didn't mean to," Simmons started to warble again, interrupting her train of thought.

"Simmons, you need to calm down. We'll deal with this," Skye reached to pull her into a hug, wincing as she did so.

"I can help with that," Alex interrupted before the scientist could scold Skye for overexerting herself. He knelt and with his hands flat started to pat Coulson's arms, flank, and down his legs.

"No other injuries," he confirmed, diverting his attention back to the man's head. He gingerly palpated along Coulson's cheek bones, exerting a light pressure as he checked the bones in his face for structural deformity. Then, he tilted his head to look into the man's ears looking for fluid discharge.

"No sign of CSF or bruising around the orbits so we can probably rule out a basal skull fracture," Coulson's eyelids flickered as he spoke.

"And he's responding to verbal stimulus," he tried to assure Simmons, who looked like she was going to be sick.

"Is it OK if I put him there?" Alex nodded at the bed.

"Yes, of course," Skye ignored the pointed look from her companion. "I've had enough bed rest to last me a lifetime and poor AC isn't looking so hot."

"Alright, I'll just do this carefully," he groaned, awkwardly scooping Coulson into his arms and leveraged him up onto the bed while Simmons moved to drop the incline of the headrest so that the man was lying flat.

"Also, I didn't get your names."

"I'm Skye and this is Simmons," Skye said, gesturing backward with her thumb at the scientist who was reassessing everything Alex had just done. Having Coulson on the bed in front of her seemed to draw her out of herself, forcing her medical instinct to take over. He didn't have the heart to tell them that he didn't think Coulson had been enthralled by Lorelei.

"Great. So, how about a sit-rep?" Alex glanced at the ceiling as something loud skittered across the floor above them. Skye pulled her tablet from the counter and fixated on the readings. "Fitz has Sif trapped in the cage, but he opened the airlock and…"

"Fitz is the curly haired one, grey sweater?" Alex interrupted.

This caught Simmons' attention. "Oh poor Fitz, he doesn't do well in these situations."

Another loud bang racketed the cargo bay.

"Oh god, May's upstairs on her own now that Sif is gone," Skye realized. "Lorelei is still in the cage so May must be duking it out with Ward."

"Annnnnd I'm assuming the horny one is Agent Ward?" Alex dipped his head. "I followed them here. Never mind. Lock the cage down and open the airlock," he suggested. They stared at him blankly.

"Look, Sif is an Asgardian right? She's like freakin' Wonder Women and probably clinging to the side of the plane as we speak. Open the airlock, let her in, and we'll go from there."

"Makes sense," Skye agreed.

"Good. Skye, you can monitor the feeds. Simmons can look after Coulson and I'll go upstairs and try to take control of the plane before the autopilot decides to take us into the ground."

He was met with silence.

Alex blinked. "What, no 'go team' cheer?"

Skye hesitated. "Great plan and all," she started after a moment, "but aren't you forgetting about the power hungry alien enchantress upstairs who likes to enslave men?"

"No, I'm pretty sure she's the focal point of our discussion."

"But, you're a man," Simmons explained as though she were talking to a small child. Skye just grimaced.

"It's alright. I'm on the patch." Alex exposed a flat area of skin just under his collarbone where a small white adhesive pad sat. "Slow release valproic acid," he offered.

Simmons's face lit up. "Valproic acid is an HDAC inhibitor. It stabilizes mood and sexual arousal. That's brilliant! How did you think of that?"

"I Googled it," he retorted dryly. "Now, all good with the plan?"

"Sif's back in the cage fighting with Lorelei," Skye confirmed, watching the feed on her monitor. The sound of footsteps entering the cargo bay stopped her from saying anything further as Alex hushed them.

"Oh no, it's Fitz," Simmons squeaked and automatically brought her hands to her mouth to cover it.

The footsteps intensified.  _So much for stealth_.

"Simmons, what are you girls doing with this door open! Lorelei wouldn't like that one bit…ooof!" Alex yanked Fitz into the med pod before he could work out what had happened. The Scot yelped and bucked against him, but Alex had a height advantage and pinned him against his chest with one hand clamped across his mouth.

"Don't hurt him," Simmons pleaded, hearing Fitz whimper in pain.

"Trying not to," Alex grunted as he tried to prevent him from flailing. "Spare patch, right pocket!"

Skye snagged it and tore open the clear plastic packaging with her teeth. "Where do I put it?" she asked.

"Anywhere!" Alex huffed. "Just try not to touch the sticky side."

Fitz squirmed violently and threw all his strength into pitching forward, dragging Alex with him on the coattails of his momentum. They landed with a loud thunk leaving the Scot pinned between the cold tile and Alex who blew out a loud puff of air.

Skye took one look at the dazed Fitz and gingerly bent to stick the patch across his forehead.

"There!" she proclaimed. "You can look now, Simmons."

"Jemma?" Fitz whined, as she bent down next to his head. "Something's crushing my spleen…what the bloody hell?" He yelped, finally taking notice of the agent on top of him. Alex took that as his cue to gently disentangle himself.

"Sorry, bout that," he offered, patting the scientist on the back and pulling him up with him as he stood. His actions earned an incredulous stare from Fitz.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Fitz seethed, feeling irate and more than a little disoriented.

"Agent Alex Grant, I'm supposed to be joining your team," he offered his right hand, but Fitz didn't take it. Instead his hand drifted upward toward his forehead and he looked accusingly at Skye.

"What did ya stick on me?" he asked thickly, clearly upset.

"That stays on for now," Simmons demanded, batting his hand away from it. "It's a valproic acid patch…cause Lorelei…" she wasn't sure how to continue. Fitz's expression dropped and he suddenly looked very guilty.

"Jemma, I…" he started, wringing his hands.

Another crash caught their attention.

"Hate to stick my nose in but, any chance of bumming a weapon?" Alex interrupted. "Cause I really think we should do something about that now." He pointed at the ceiling.

"Good plan," Skye agreed.

* * *

"Ok are you sure you want to do this?" Alex gave Fitz a doubtful once over as the scientist weakly gripped his sidearm. It wasn't that he doubted the other man, but he knew that Lorelei's thrall was bound to have some aftereffects that would probably wear him down.

"Yes, I'm bloody sure. What is it with you operations types and your assumptions? You even look like Ward!" he snapped, bristling.

Irritability—check.

Alex brushed the barb off as coincidence and nodded solemnly. "Sorry," he offered. "Just, wasn't sure how you were feeling with that patch on. I'm feeling a little woozy myself." He tapped his index finger to the spot on his clavicle where his own patch lay.

"Yes, well," Fitz hedged, a note of guilt lacing his tone. After enough whining, he had convinced Jemma to let him move the offending object from his forehead to his forearm. "We do what we have to do, don't we?"

"Damn straight," Alex grinned. "Now, how bout we give deranged-sexy-time-biker-chick a one way ticket back to Asgard?"

His assertion drew a genuine smile from Fitz, who nodded vigorously.

Both men crouched on the steps leading down to the cargo bay. Alex surged forward and crept across the landing toward the door. He opened it carefully and cleared the area before motioning for Fitz to go ahead of him.

"Which way to the cage?" he whispered under the sound of glass breaking.

Fitz pointed right.

"Ok, let's deal with that. I think Agent May can hold her own for another couple more minutes."

They stalked down the hallway until Fitz brought them to a halt outside a locked room. He swiped at the LCD panel with his thumb and began furiously trying to disable the manual override. When the light in the right corner flashed green he nodded at Alex.

Alex jerked his head as the door swung in on its hinges, attracting the attention of the occupants inside.

"Well, what do we have hear? Another big strong soldier to serve me," Lorelei smirked as her gaze roamed over Alex. "Now, how about you come here and destroy this miscreant for me?"

Alex glanced at Lady Sif who lay dazed on the floor.

"Mmmm…" he pretended to consider her request. "Not much into 'miscreant destroying' I'm afraid."

"You will do as I command you, my pet," Lorelei purred, something dangerous flashed in her eyes as she beckoned him.

Alex let his feet carry him a couple of steps toward her, but then he grinned wolfishly and stepped back again, taunting her. "Yep….nope, really not into the power hungry maniac thing. I'm not that kinky."

"Is that so?" Lorelei cooed, turning on her seductive charm at full force as she sauntered toward him, swinging her hips back and forth slowly, just as she had for Agent Ward.

Behind her Lady Sif was struggling to get to her feat. She watched the scene play out with a mixture of fear and apprehension.

"Hip problems?" he nodded at Lorelei sounding concerned. "I could give you the number for my chiropractor? She does these great deep tissue massages that really get the blood flowing. There's nothing worse than when you put in a hard day reining havoc and destruction only to be put out by …"

"Silence! You will do as I command you," Lorelei snapped. She was about a stone's throw away from Alex and reached to caress his chin. As she did so, he dropped his ICER in surrender and it clamored to the floor. Fitz understood the signal and whipped around the corner discharging three rounds of dendrotoxin into her chest without even blinking. Lady Sif was on top of her with the collar before she even hit the ground.

"Awesome, Fitz!" Alex flashed him a toothy smile as the Scot surveyed his handiwork with wild eyes. He looked shell-shocked.

" _I_  took down an Asgardian," he stammered, staring wide-eyed at the ICER still gripped in his palm.

"Up high?" Alex nudged Fitz and playfully gestured to his outstretched hand. It took a second nudge for him to reciprocate and even then his gaze promptly drifted back to Lorelei's unconscious body.

"Your chiropractor?" he choked, after a long moment, shaking his head.

Alex shrugged. "It got her attention and then some."

"Hubris," Fitz muttered, finally turning to look back at Alex. "These world domination types think they're the be all end all of everything."

"Would you two mind enlightening me how you broke Lorelei's spell?" Lady Sif, who had been wordlessly watching the exchange, finally interrupted.

Alex nodded to Fitz, "You do that and I'm gonna see if I can land this puppy."

"We call it The Bus!" Fitz hollered after him.

* * *

 **Author's Note (2):**  Well, hopefully you guys liked the first bit? PLEASE let me know by reviewing as this does take quite a while to write and reviews will motivate me to write more.

Also, any thoughts, plot ideas or suggestions you have I would be happy to hear about.

Cheers :)


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